pre-something angst

blurred between the lines of contortionist delusions,
wobbled,
headless,
mindless.

apparitions appear in general flights-
take the lead,
take my lead,
I am blind.

welcome back!

ween and sway

emotions of my emotional self,

try

no longer to keep the pain away, 

soak and scream-

vocalized silence is my curse.

To Whom It May Concern-

Dear Mr. Government,

Now,
    I see that you think I am old enough to be capable of grown-up tasks.


I.E. Stable job, health insurance, plans for the next ten years, serious lover...


Now,
     You must see that even though I am 24, I am still a child.
 

I.E. I am still trying to graduate college, figure out this life, travel, have fun, eat in Thailand, teach English, be wild and free before I have to conform to your societal rules.


Please be informed of this and take pity on a child's well being.
I am poor, and need your help.
Why do you keep ignoring me?
Pushing my needs and the needs of others around my age under all your war folders?
Why do you still have those war folders?
Why are we still in a war?

Why did you ever proclaim a war you probably knew we could never win?

Anyways,
I would sincerely like to receive financial assistance that I do not have to pay back until I can get a "real" job. Or, I mean, you could just give me a job with all the benefits I need to become a part of your "functioning" society.

I would really appreciate your corporation on the matter, especially since I can not be on my parents insurance once I turn 25, an age I plan to leave the United States to do some exploring.
But, once I return, can my peers and I pretty please have a "good" job?

Thank you for your time and concern.


Sincerely,

America's Young Adults

I wish I would not have to be rushed.

blood rush to the head:

gun shots,
        blood pulse,
                  now someone else is dead.

my eyes feel crazed,
      bulging, in outright anger.


I feel this violence will never end.

blood rush to the head:

scabbed,
   scarred,
       bruised-

the blood I will never dread.

I,
   they,
           we,

        have bled enough not to fear
for ourselves anymore-

        only to fear for the innocent
that this government has killed.


blood rush to the head:

if you stop,
  if they stop,
    if it all will just STOP!


there will be nothing to be said.

The Image the Haunts My Mind

The inner skeletal system
breaks the skin,
not with ease,
yet with a ripping, hateful force;
tearing the muscle and epidermis
with anguish,
although none can be felt.
black masses of bloody goo
pour lavishly around the peeled layers,
decorating what is left of the body
with an ephemeral glow.
the sight of destruction
brings on thoughts of freedom.
No longer held down by the binds of this human shell,
the system is set free,
able to roam and go
above the bounds of earthly existence. 

My ear itches, and my heart is on a role.

run
away, toward Arizona.

the eye
on back of my head
sees her brown eyes
tearing, then closing.

run,
faster.

body shakes,
rumbles from within.

all power has left,
and I have failed myself again.

My heart is too full of love,
my soul is too ready to give away my love.

run, run, run;
further.

yet I want her.
I want her
to want me.

Cheap Trick
sings in my head,
as I continue to run.

"I need you to need me."

....

"I'd love you to love me.."

RUN!

fall.
tumble.
turn.

crawl back.
lay in bed.
stare.
think.

the bedroom door opens slowly,
methodically.

she whispers my name,
crawls into bed and holds me.

my body quivers
and there are no more thoughts
requiring me to run.

I stay.
I will wait.
I will love.
As my heart loves to love.

Raincoat

The pebbles crush
my placid feet-
      walk through the shallow bank
blinded by rain,
                         a hellish hail.

Pinch,
          snare,
                    scream.

The skin-
     under the puckered water
              in the midst of falling rocks
                   and baffled shrieks;
 
sinks,
          pulls,
                   tears.

The infernal earth
      meanders about the muscle,
             rudimentarily clinging.


                                                        The muscle needs its raincoat.






I will not be washed away.

A Void In My Wall

I heard scraping
against the side wall of my bedroom,
it started as a slight hush of a whisper,
then the nails deepened into the dry wall
and began scratching deeply away ,
digging feverishly ,
as if whoever was on the other side was thirsty for blood
or thirsty to keep their life.

Frightened and perturbed,
I backed into the adjacent corner,
cowering in anticpation of death on one end of the wall.

For hours I listened to this
incessant scratching.

Fear turned into curiosity ,
which in turn became
a need to know.

I grabbed a hammer
and started pounding away,
with more force than I realized I had in strength.

Finally,
I broke through the wall.

On the other side
I saw-

An empty room.

Null and void of any form of life.

Words Won't Make A Car Start

My eyes grow tired
as my mouth dries- yearning for a beer,
or anything of substance
to calm,
to relate
my mind with my inebriation.

I feel...
I am safe inside myself,
yet confused with a sense
of irresponsibility laced with desire for,

for
...

pleasure.

There is a deception
within my heart.

I WANT to deceive myself
    into thinking
i want something
i do not care for .

----
music.
....
distraction.

a wandering mind.

let me grab a beer.
......  .....

back with a Stella (Artois) in hand,
tastes like weed..
or like Heineken.

I speak to my roommate/ friend.

I speak to myself.

And let my mind rest in complete
contentment that I have no more to think
or say.

Stagnant as the day I was born
I sit
and listen
to the hum of a silent car.

Wet Panties and a Bottle of Wine

I want to get away from here
drink my wine,
fuck my men,
stay young and thin.
But the latter has already faded.
And the shorter sways like a worn flag in the wind.

I seek excitement .
A story .

Where do I begin?

Where can I expect to end?


Jaded,
Watching Thelma and Louise.
Slightly intoxicated.
About to be more.
Thinking , about ,
well,
Men.

Lone Rider In A Pink Triangular Dust Bowl

Screams swirling ,
tingling freshly washed skin..
doused with extra holiday weight.
Her blouse,
hanging tightly
around young firm breasts,
sings to the aroused eye
with beautifully hard nipples.

There's movement within that screaming skin,
searching desperately
for that perfect lay;
she stirs,
quivers,
suffers silently,
in mortal pain for something...

..REAL.

Something she knows
will never reach her again
in the way it was meant to exist.

Onward she travels,
a lone pussy
electrifying her systems
without any result.